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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691031">Beloved Home and Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekyRoleplayer/pseuds/GeekyRoleplayer'>GeekyRoleplayer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A collection of short writings that couldn't go in their own stories, A pavellan dump, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Drabbles, During Inquisition, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Inquisition, drauma, pavellan - Freeform, post - inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:27:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekyRoleplayer/pseuds/GeekyRoleplayer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A short collection of drabbles centering around the relationship of Dorian and Inquisitor Lavellan. <br/>Little moments they take for one another during the events of the Inquisition.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Solas, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A short one to get started- </p><p>Mahvir doesn't let Dorian out of bed in the morning.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Amatus, I promised Leliana that I would help with research this morning-"</p><p><br/><br/>"But I don't want you to go."</p><p><br/><br/>The man let out an exasperated sigh and curses lightly in Tevene. "As endearing as that look you're giving me is, it is unseemly for the Inquisitor to <em>pout."</em></p><p><br/><br/>"Fine. Then I'm ordering you to stay in bed."</p><p><br/><br/>"This is an abuse of your station, you know."</p><p><br/><br/>The elf tugs him back under the covers with little resistance and Dorian is quickly pinned, by a tangle of legs and arms curling around him in a warm embrace.<br/><br/>Mahvir does not seem disturbed by his accusations and instead takes to nuzzling against the crook of his neck. Leaving soft kisses in his wake.<br/><br/>"Are you going to defend me when our spymaster comes for my head later?"</p><p><br/><br/>The Inquisitor laughs lightly, and it is a genuine sound. Soft and sweet, like a morning song bird's melody. "Always, ma Vehnan. You have my sword just as you have my heart."<br/><br/>With that, he relents.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dorian and Krem listen to a poem in the Herald's Rest.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class="body">
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div class="msg"><p>"In our modern times, there is a wildness in the land that man considers a gluttonous feast.<br/>
Despite the power held by the land's untamed and hubris beast.<br/>
Some men are gifted with the power of the Gods, magic coursing proudly through their veins,<br/>
others drift due to the rarity of their race, their accessories often chains.</p>
<p>The circumstances of this place dubbed it as one of fantasy and wonder,<br/>
The world itself, however, was soon torn asunder.<br/>
Flames began to scorch the countryside, a result of man's pride.<br/>
It was not long until even the mightiest of knights began to hide.</p>
<p>It was through this haze of a Dragon's hot breath,<br/>
that a hero did rise without anyone's bequeaths.<br/>
He rode upon a stag, whose fur was white as snow.<br/>
No noble had dared to believe an elf to deliver their saving blow.</p>
<p>A warrior with pointed ears, a sword, and shield he would hold.<br/>
His eyes were the color of the sun; hues of glimmering amber and gold.<br/>
He approached the mighty beast one spring afternoon,<br/>
Hoping that the battle would be over by the light of the moon.</p>
<p>Similar to the stories told of the men in Maric's rebellion,<br/>
This little elf was humble and not afraid to be fought.<br/>
He bowed his head low and offered a prayer to the powers that be,<br/>
Until he was ready to charge with courage in his heart, for that was the key.</p>
<p>The wind began to scream with the beating of the creature's wings.<br/>
as the two, alone together, stood as mightily as kings.<br/>
Many thought the elf would cost himself an arm and a leg,<br/>
but by the time he would be done, all he would want is a keg.</p>
<p>The Dragon roared and opened it's deathly maw,<br/>
And the warrior drove forth to cut away at it's claw.<br/>
This battle raged on for a week and a day,<br/>
but the nearby townsfolk reassure that it ended with a victorious slay.</p>
<p>The Elf now recognized by name as Lavellan, was courtesy shown.<br/>
It was a new kindness that he and his people had never previously known.<br/>
The people’s cheers were like on buzz throughout the land,<br/>
as his story was told, each time a little more grand.</p>
<p>He was a legend, a storybook protagonist made true.<br/>
Whenever he was needed he would now arrive on cue.<br/>
His strength rumored to be as brutish as a bear's,<br/>
While his heart remained as gentle as a hare's."</p>
<p>⚔️⚔️⚔️</p>
<p>As the bard's tale comes to a close the Herald's Rest is consumed by a profound silence.</p>
<p>Maryden plucks at her lute anxiously, the thrumming sound of it contrasting with the crackling of the fire.</p>
<p>"Well, I thought it was great." Krem breaks the silence with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He was sitting at the bar with a few of the other chargers, nursing a particularly bitter-tasting Fereldan Ale.</p>
<p>"Thank you," the woman answers in an almost shy voice. She did always appreciate his support but at the moment it wasn't his opinion that she was worried about.</p>
<p>"He is rather gentle, isn't he? That was a good touch." Dorian remarks as he took sips from the unspeakable beverage that he was actually enjoying. Not that he would ever admit it but Cabot must have caught on by now.</p>
<p>"Do you really think so? I know that it's not reliable with what you told me, but it was just to make the battle seem..."</p>
<p>"Grander and less terrifying?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>The mage nods his head in understanding. "Well, we wouldn't want to give the patrons of the Rest nightmares, would we?"</p>
<p>Maryden finds herself smiling then as her troubled mind is put at ease. It was much easier to accept her creative whims when people who were actually at the event agreed on her storytelling. "Very well then, I'll use it tomorrow morning for our guests."</p>
<p>"I'll be here to cheer you on," Krem speaks again as Rocky jabs him in the side with an elbow, and Dalish laughs teasingly. The entire company seemed content to give their second in command a hard time.</p>
<p>The bard didn't seem to mind this as she put her lute aside and wandered across the tavern. Stitches pushed himself to his feet and offered the woman his stool. She takes the seat beside Krem happily, and they fall into a quiet conversation. Eyes gleaming with interest and glee, respectively.</p>
<p>Dorian watched them from his table. Had he and his Amatus been so shy in their early days? Timid to say something foolish but clearly craving each other's company? He found it hard to remember but to his credit, his heart still hammered in his chest due to the elf's proximity alone.</p>
<p>With a pang, the pain of missing his partner returned. He hoped that the warrior would return to Skyhold soon.</p>
<p>They had fought that Dragon nearly two weeks ago and Dorian had gotten himself a bit bent out of shape. He'd been tossed into the air like a rag doll due to the creature's beating wings.<br/>
He had insisted that he was fine, of course, but his broken ribs suggested otherwise.</p>
<p>The Inquisitor had left him behind, while he went off on his current expedition. Taking the Iron Bull instead.</p>
<p>As the days went by the time apart gradually became more unbearable. His hours of research began to feel more like years and he found it nearly impossible to sleep at night. The space beside him was cold and empty, he missed the warmth of his lover's company.</p>
<p>Dorian tips his tankard back with a heavy sigh. Finishing off what remained of his ale without a breath in-between. Yes, he supposed that they had been so foolish in the beginning.</p>
<p>In fact, they were still just as foolish if his current loneliness was any indication.</p>
<p>At the very least his beloved Inquisitor would have a new poem to return to, along with his open arms.</p></div></div></div></div><div class="">
  <p>
    <span>
      
    </span>
  </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mahvir returns a book to Dorian.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a staleness to the air as Mahvir clambered up the last few steps into the library.<br/>He was light on his feet with a quill tucked behind a pointed ear. The Vallaslin that spiraled out along his expression was traced by long strands of his hair that was otherwise tied into a loose ponytail.</p>
<p>The elf rounded the small corner to peer into his lover's nook. Dorian's back was to him as the mage scrutinized a page within a dusty old tome.</p>
<p>Mahvir spared a glance at the small novel that was within his own calloused hands. It's leather spine was carefully tethered together and a feather was tucked into it's pages to serve as a bookmark. With a careful hand, he rasped his knuckles against the side of a shelf; announcing his presence.</p>
<p>Dorian turned about instantly. His presence alone demanded attention as it always did. Mahvir admired the way the light from the window filtered in and danced across the mage's dark skin. How his eyes glinted with haughty mischief.</p>
<p>Or how his lips twisted up to serve him a tantalizingly warm smile.</p>
<p>"Could I adore you more? Probably not." Dorian chatters effortlessly, before snapping the tome in his hands closed.</p>
<p>"Easy ma Vehnan, keep talking like that, and I might have to marry you."</p>
<p>"Well in that case I'll keep talking. We both love the sound of my voice anyway."</p>
<p>Mahvir couldn't help the grin that cracked his otherwise weary facade. The day had been hard as they often were; with visiting dignitaries pulling him every which way. Dorian served as his only reprieve and he wasn't going to miss his chance to sweep in and steal a bit of affection.</p>
<p>The Inquisitor stepped into the hollow space between the bookshelves. An arm snaked easily around the curve of Dorian's back. Pulling him in close with the force of a trained Warrior, Mahvir caught him in a wanton kiss.</p>
<p>The mage gasped against it, not unwelcomed, but surprised. It was returned, and that hideous tome was tossed into his armchair before his fingers were inching into the elf's chestnut hair.<br/>Tugging in a teasing way that only caused the kiss to deepen with a gruntled appreciation slipping past their tongues.</p>
<p>Mahvir pulled away, with a heaving chest. He leaned his forehead against his lover's, their noses brushing just so. "Believe it or not, I came up here to return this."</p>
<p>"Oh?" The necromancer muses on a breath of strangled air. "And what was so important that the Inquisitor had to deliver it personally?"</p>
<p>"The person he was delivering it too, of course."</p>
<p>"Oh **Amatus,** you are appallingly sweet."</p>
<p>Mahvir nods and leans in for a softer kiss. Gentler and much more sensual than before.</p>
<p>Less hungry but just as needy.</p>
<p>"You **love** how sweet I am, Ma Vehnan. Now take this will you? I'm late for the war room."</p>
<p>Dorian furrows his brow and he takes the small book of poetry from the elf. "Must you always be on the go?"</p>
<p>"Unfortunately, but you get the pleasure of watching me come and go."</p>
<p>"I would enjoy the pleasure of your company much more."</p>
<p>Mahvir hums in agreement before taking a step back and tapping the prementioned book. "Let this tide you over until I can better serve you tonight."</p>
<p>"Tonight, then?"</p>
<p>"If you read the book."</p>
<p>"What's in the book?"</p>
<p>"Impatient man, we can't go skipping to the good parts now." The elf offered a coy smile before he turns away, he really was late.</p>
<p>Dorian would have to be satisfied with the bookmarked pages, about romance, love, and lustful intrigue.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dorian learns Mahvir's middle name.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Emlyn."</p><p>The name was sudden and it disturbed the quiet of the library. Dorian found himself glancing up from his book to look at the other man, who's head was currently in his lap. "Pardon?"</p><p>Mahvir was staring up at him with shining amber eyes. They glimmered and glinted as an animal's would in the dark. Reflecting the candlelight. At this hour of the night they were the only ones in the Rotunda, save for Leliana who moved about on the floor above them. "My middle name, you asked for it."</p><p>To Dorian's credit, he had actually asked months ago, but the elf had refused to tell him. "Oh? That sounds awfully..."</p><p>"Human?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Mahvir hums thoughtfully, and the noise turns even soften when Dorian brushes his fingers through his hair. Almost like a purr as he's tempted to just close his eyes and bask in the delicate touch. His lover was still watching him expectantly, however, so he knew he had a story to tell.</p><p>"Many years ago there was a hunter who stopped to help my clan dig their Aravels out of the snow. It was a terrible few months. A sickness had ripped through the clan and taken plenty of lives already. When he noticed that they were so low on Hunters, he offered to help them."</p><p>"He sounds like a good man."</p><p>"He stayed with the clan for months. Helping them through the winter and ensuring that everyone was fed. From the oldest elder to the youngest of children. It was a rare kindness that my people did not often see in humans. Eventually, he went back to Starkhaven, but not before he left an impression."</p><p>Dorian furrows his brow at this, as he traces the edge of Mahvir's Vallaslin. His gentle touch gliding along the sprawling branches, as if he was mapping them out. "Why wouldn't you want to tell me that? I should think it would be an honor to share his name."</p><p>"It is." The elf agrees, reaching up to take the other man's hand within his own. Drawing it to his lips to press a kiss upon his knuckles.</p><p>"But a human name amongst the Dalish is taboo. I'd learned not to bring it up amongst my peers. I suppose I followed through with the habit when you asked."</p><p>"Emlyn." The mage tests the word. "It means charming, does it not?"</p><p>Mahvir looks upwards once more and waits for Dorian to close the book that was still in his open hand. "It does, yes."</p><p>"It suits you." Dorian remarks with his voice silky with approval. "What about Mahvir? What does it mean?"</p><p>"Tomorrow. My mother said that when I was born, it gave her hope for a better tomorrow."</p><p>"She couldn't have been more right. My charming tomorrow, You give everyone more hope."</p><p>The Inquisitor smiles at this as he feels a deep warmth seeping into his skin. "Stop it now, the Inquisitor blushing? It's unseemly."</p><p>"It's adorable."</p><p>Mahvir huffs and gives into Dorian's claims. Adorable wasn't a bad thing to be. Especially when it was just them alone, curled up within a pile of blankets, on the library's floor.</p><p>Hopelessly in love as ever.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dorian is wounded in battle.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The wound was messy and the blood pooled between his fingers as he pressed down hard against the Mage's abdomen.</p>
<p>"Ir abelas, Ma Vehnan... I should have been watching, I should have..." The Inquisitor's voice trailed off as he crouched among the snowdrifts. A flurry of fresh snow was cascading from the sky and clouding his vision as he strained to see the unsteady rise and fall of Dorian's chest.</p>
<p>"You've got to hold on for me, please. Dorian..."</p>
<p>He was offered no witty remark to calm his frayed nerves. The Necromancer was lying still upon the ground. His pale eyes growing duller with each moment that passed.</p>
<p>Snowflakes landed in his hair and caught against his paling skin. Mahvir wanted to brush them away but he couldn't move his hands. Stained a crimson, just as his lover's robes were.</p>
<p>The snow beneath them was fairing no better.<br/>"Do you remember that first night you stayed in Haven?" The elf asks softly. His voice cracking with desperation.</p>
<p>"You complained about the cold and I offered you my coat? Even though you said no, I kept offering it to you every time since. I would give it to you now too. I would give you anything, Ma Vehnan. I would give you everything if it meant you being okay." His words grew thick with fear the longer he went on. His throat growing hoarse as he breathed in the freezing air.</p>
<p>Something warm tingled it's way down his cheeks and the tears fell onto his hands. Mingling with the fresh blood.</p>
<p>"I'm so sorry," he continued. Listening to the crunching of footfalls behind him as Varric stalked about, looking for Cole to appear within the haze of the storm. "I knew a blizzard was coming and I wanted to go out anyway, it was too easy for us to be ambushed..."</p>
<p>Mahvir glanced upwards and sparred a glance to the scattered bodies of Red Templars. They had circled the Inquisition party as they moved through Emprise Du Lion. They were cut down with force but not before they got the best on their mage.</p>
<p>A dagger through his back had done the trick.<br/>Mahvir had turned around just in time to see the man's body fall and for the spirit to stand in his place. It fought with them and kept Dorian alive for the remainder of the battle.</p>
<p>Then all that was left was the storm. The shouting from the Inquisitor that was drowned out by the vicious winds and the chilling realization that they were out of healing potions.</p>
<p>Cole had vanished to return to camp. There was one somewhere nearby but they couldn't register any sense of direction due to the weather.</p>
<p>"Please..." He grieved, bending to rest his head against Dorian's chest. With a broken heart, he relished the sensation of the Mage's breath barely stirring his long hair. "Ar lath ma, do you hear me, Dorian? I love you, so you have to hold on. Let me be selfish this once."</p>
<p>There was a break against the wind. Distant shouts echoed around them from a direction that he couldn't pinpoint. He burned with the sound as a wave of relief washed over him to mingle with every other emotion that was eating him alive.</p>
<p>Varric wandered over. His numbed hands fumbled with Bianca as he struggled to sheath the crossbow. "Come on Crasher, Cole brought the soldiers..." The dwarf's voice was firm. "Let's make sure he makes it home."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After the death of Clan Lavellan, Mahvir Lavellan wakes up to a panic attack.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He awoke, startled.</p>
<p>Similar to the shock of being splashed with icy water, his entire body seized for just a moment or two. Unable to breathe as he fought off the sensations of fear and dread which clung to him like a vice.</p>
<p>His chest hurt.<br/>He struggled as he willed some air to return to his lungs. He gasped for it. Silently begged for it even as his spike in adrenaline left him disoriented and feeling sick to his stomach.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had only just woken up and he was already overwhelmed by the world around him.</p>
<p>Attempting to not focus on his current state of mind, he tries to hone in on other things.</p>
<p>The sensation of blankets against his bare skin.</p>
<p>The warmth that radiated from his sleeping lover.</p>
<p>The crackling of fire from outside.</p>
<p>The way the wind breezed against the top of his tent.</p>
<p>The distant crooning of an owl.</p>
<p>The way that the moonlight flittered in from above to vanquish some of the shadows in all the dark corners.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sighs and settles back down.<br/>Rolling away from the world to shuffle closer to the man beside him. Dorian rarely had nightmares and the demons of the fade knew not to try and con the Tevinter Mage. He always looked so serene in his rest.</p>
<p>Mahvir thought it best not to wake him.</p>
<p>Except for his chest still ached with terrible feelings and his stomach churned in a way that left him fearing that he was ill. Even the anchor, nestled within his left palm, began to tingle and flare.</p>
<p>He bites his bottom lip and endures.<br/>He endures until he feels tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. By the time he reaches out to nudge the other man's arm, they were already spilling down his cheeks.</p>
<p>Dorian was quick to respond. A disapproving groan falls from his lips and his eyelids, heavy with sleep, flutter open. His grey irises were hazy until they find the amber ones staring back at him. "Amatus?" He manages and a yawn wretches itself from him with the word.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry..." The elf manages, already feeling regretful due to disturbing his lover.</p>
<p>"There's no need to apologize." The mage soothes, already sitting up and allowing the blankets to tumble from his chest and instead rest against his lap. He reaches out with one hand to gently brush the man's tears away. "Mahvir, how can I help?"</p>
<p>Mahvir shrugs helplessly as he leans into the soft touch that lingered against his skin. Warm and delicate and consoling. He flexes his left wrist a few times as they were now being bathed in a green light. "I feel like I can't breathe and my stomach hurts."</p>
<p>Dorian narrows his eyes and leans forward to lay a hand against the elf's chest. He conjures a bit of cold air and sends it forth. Mahvir is consumed by goosebumps but the crisp air feels good going down his throat and he gasps to take it in.</p>
<p>"Easy my love," Dorian tells him, "remember what we talked about with the healer? In through your nose, hold it, and out through the mouth."</p>
<p>Unsettled, he does as he's told, taking in a deeper breath and waiting to let it out. As he does so, some of the ache in his chest eases for a moment. Like a wave receding before it returns to crash against the shore.</p>
<p>"There we are." Dorian murmurs, "you're doing so well Amatus, try it again."</p>
<p>And so he does.<br/>Again and again he focuses on his breathing until it is the only thing left on his mind.</p>
<p>Eventually the tears stop and the emotional pain that mixed up with the physical eases. The anchor was the last thing to go. Fizzling out slowly until their eyes were left to adjust to the moonlight.</p>
<p>An undeniable hollowness was left within his chest but he did feel better.</p>
<p>His lover had sat by, coaching him on with soft words and sweet nothings. Now that the elf was calmed, however, he reached out to hook him around the waist and pull him into a rather crushing hug.</p>
<p>Normally Mahvir didn't like being touched when he was having an episode like this but now that the panic attack was subsiding, he was tired and unwilling to fight off any oncoming affection. Dorian knew this well.</p>
<p>The Inquisitor allowed himself to be maneuvered into his lover's lap, where he curls himself into a ball and nuzzles up against the other man's chest.</p>
<p>"I'm getting worried amatus," the mage admits as he leaves a flurry of soft kisses against the top of the elf's head. "These are happening more often."</p>
<p>Mahvir sighs, unsure. "I'm just stressed."</p>
<p>"I'm going to have a word with your advisors." He decides. "If your stresses are making you sick, giving your nightmares, debilitating your mental health, then you need to take a step back."</p>
<p>"Ma Vehnan, I'm the Inquisitor. I can't just take a step back."</p>
<p>"I'm sure all of them will agree with me. We need to get this under control before..."</p>
<p>"Before?"</p>
<p>There's a pause and Dorian frowns as he searches for the right words. When he finally spoke again they were heavy and full of remorse. "When you lost your clan I was so worried that you were...That you weren't going to recover. I kept an eye on you because I was afraid that you wouldn't be there if I left you alone."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Dorian I..." A bit of understanding sinks in and the elf physically deflates, sinking farther into his lover's embrace. "Ir Abelas, I didn't mean to scare you."</p>
<p>"I'm still scared." Dorian admits, "If your bouts of worsening anxiety wasn't doing it, then your loss in weight, or the way you've been working yourself to the bone would have." He leans back so that he could capture Mahvir's chin within his hand, he tilts it upwards so that their eyes meet.</p>
<p>"You can't keep going like this," he continues, pleading now. "You're going to end up killing yourself before we even meet Corypheus on the battlefield again. The world needs you alive Amatus, I need you alive, so **please** allow me to talk to your Advisors."</p>
<p>Mahvir takes in another deep breath. This conversation was doing nothing for his frayed nerves. The voice in the back of his mind insisted that he was fine. He didn't need to be coddled or treated like a bit of glass, easily broken. Except he knew that he was growing scrawnier by the day, that he woke up feeling sick, and that tears were always close at hand.</p>
<p>He felt broken and undeserving of the time necessary to mend all of his broken pieces. Yet he knew that his lover would insist and for that he was eternally grateful. It gave him an excuse to ignore his self-hatred and cynicism enough to give in.</p>
<p>In order to better lead his people, he needed to heal.</p>
<p>"Alright Dorian, you have my blessing."</p>
<p>Dorian sighs, and leans down to capture the elf's lips with his own. His relief was evident in the way that he came back for another and another until it was he who had to focus on regaining his breath.</p>
<p>As they finally settled back down within their sleeping packs, Dorian curled himself dutifully around the Inquisitor. He liked to think of himself as the Warrior's last bit of armor during his most vulnerable moments. To his pleasure, Mahvir doesn't protest to being held, and he's able to offer him soft touches and whispered "Thank you's," well into the night.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mahvir falls into an icy lake.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He leaned towards the ground with his hands planted upon his knees. His chest heaved haphazardly as he urged his nerves to settle and his heart to calm it's rapid beating. </p><p>Closing rifts were never a comfortable experience and this one had been especially tiresome.  The entire fight had taken place upon the frozen lake of Emprise Du Lion.  It had begun to snow during the battle and a pride demon had clawed it's way through the rift before it could be shut by the Inquisitor. </p><p>It had been a monstrous beast with multiple eyes and twisting horns. It's very laugh had shaken the ground and so had it's thunderous steps. It's lighting attacks had been scorching, and it kept reaching towards them threateningly. The party had been lucky that their resident mage was quick on his feet. If it wasn't for Dorian, slipping upon the ice as he fought to keep their barriers in place, they would have all suffered severe burns. </p><p>"Amatus?" The Necromancer was calling out to him now, as he still lingered in a hunched over position. </p><p>"I'm fine, absolutely fine, just give me a moment..." His words trailed off, as his sun-colored eyes drifted along the ice beneath him.  He'd heard something, amongst the background of his voice.  The noise had sent his adrenaline pumping once more as the blood-chilling crack had been undeniable. </p><p>He watched as the ice guarding the lake began to splinter. Shattering in the same way as a broken mirror.  The strain of the pride demon's heavy steps and it's magic must have been too much for the sustaining cold.  "Nobody move!" Mahvir barks back to his companions, the splintering ice moves closer to his booted feet, and with it came a sense of dread.  </p><p>For a few moments, none of them stir. </p><p>Then his instinct begins to kick in and Mahvir is left to tug at the straps holding his armor in place. It was too heavy, if the ice breaks beneath his bodyweight then he would drown. </p><p>He manages the shoulder and chest plates in a timely fashion. He is careful and deliberate in the way that he places them upon the ground at his feet.  The elf is holding his breath, and his eyes remain on the increasing splinter. </p><p>"Everyone get off the lake!" He orders to the others. </p><p>"Then why aren't you moving!" The defiant cry is from Dorian, because of course it is, and Mahvir finds himself grimacing.</p><p>"It's almost beneath my feet now." </p><p>"Mahvir!" </p><p>The elf does take a step back at this. Reaching to tug at the straps that cross against his back.  With his jarring and heavy-footed movement, however, the cracking only increased. </p><p>As he continues to take a backward step, his steel towed boots being more dangerous than protective in this situation, he failed to notice shuffling from behind him until he collides with a chest. </p><p>A gasp of alarm forces itself past his lips, and his head turns to find Dorian disobeying his direct order.  "I told you-" </p><p>"To Hell with what you told me, now standstill." </p><p>The elf does as he's told, tensing, as frost begins to collect at the Mage's fingertips.  </p><p>Dorian directs his spell towards the ground; attempting to freeze over where the breakage had inched ever closer. For a moment the casting holds, and both men let out a relieved sigh. </p><p>It was only for a moment though. </p><p>The ice continues to splinter beneath the patch due to the natural stress and the current of the water that was still present beneath. </p><p>"Kaffas!" </p><p>"Vehnan..."</p><p>"Don't you dare, don't even think about it. I won't leave you here to drown." </p><p>Dorian is tugging upon the back of his armor now, loosening it with experienced hands. His touches are brief and frantic. </p><p>The patch explodes then, the spell broken by nature's natural resistance. </p><p>With it comes a sweeping spiderweb of splintering ice.  It's glaze has thinned, and the water that rushes beneath it's surface is easily seen. </p><p>The Inquisitor turns on his heel. It is a damning action, as he braces his still gauntleted hands upon his lover's shoulders. </p><p>"And I'm not going to let you drown with me." </p><p>He shoves the other man and Dorian in his surprise, goes skidding back upon the ice that is still relatively stable. </p><p>Just as the ground is torn asunder beneath the Inquisitior's feet and he is submerged by an icy wave.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mahvir being a tease in public.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been two weeks.</p><p>Two weeks without having someone to hold onto when the nights grew cold. His longing for his partner had started on the first night of his absence and it had steadily grown into an insatiable monster as the days went by.</p><p>A curse in disguise, Dorian had finally returned to Skyhold that afternoon but unfortunately for the Inquisitor, his arrival fell upon the same night as the Inner Circle's routine game of Wicked Grace. There was no getting out of it and so the leader of the Inquisition was left to stupor in a room of his friends while he dwelled on his more private of thoughts.</p><p>The Herald's Rest was empty of Patrons and was instead steadily beginning to fill with the steeples of their organization. Two tables had been pushed together and chairs were brought around. Maryden was strumming a few preliminary cords on her lyre, as Varric began shuffling the deck of cards.</p><p>Mahvir left the festivities to approach the bar. His adrenaline spiking as he waited for a glimpse of **his** mage coming through the door. Creators, he really was whipped, wasn't he?</p><p>"A glass of Tevinter Red, if you would Cabot."</p><p>The dwarf behind the bar glances up in surprise. "Not drinking tonight your Worship?" He turns to pick up a bottle and unplugs the cork before pouring the liquid into a glass.</p><p>"Not tonight, playing a good game of Wicked Grace is the last thing on my mind." He reaches out to take his lover's drink of choice and returns to his seat. Placing the wine down just in front of him.</p><p>Varric glances up and gives him a **look.** Knowing, and all too invasive.</p><p>"What is it?" The elf snaps, leaning back in his chair.</p><p>"Oh nothing, I just travel with you and Sparkler enough to know that look in your eye."</p><p>"You're the one who told me I couldn't skip tonight's game."</p><p>The archer chuckles as he sits the reassembled deck upon the table. "That's because the Seeker is bringing a friend with her. I thought you'd be interested in knowing the source of the gossip that's going to be flinging around the hold come morning."</p><p>To Varric's credit, Mahvir does find this interesting, and he perks up. "What kind of friend?"</p><p>"My point exactly! We should find out."</p><p>"How do we do that? You know how tight-lipped she can be."</p><p>The dwarf scoots forward in his chair to lean in close. His voice drifting as a whisper across the table. "Cassandra is a hopeless romantic. Get her something to croon over and then we see how he reacts."</p><p>Mahvir gives a small nod. As professional as he may have to be in the daytime, all of those pretenses tended to wash away when he was among his friends. "What pray tell, will she be crooning over?"</p><p>"You and your Magister. That can't be too hard, can it?"</p><p>"You want me to fawn over Dorian?"</p><p>"No, **you** want to fawn over Dorian. You're not drinking so you won't do something worthy of a scandal, and you got him the expensive stuff. You're practically a cat in heat, my friend."</p><p>"I'll try not to be so obvious, I'm not the one who sent him off with the chargers for a fortnight." He still didn't forgive Leliana for that.</p><p>"Oh no, obvious is good, we want the Seeker squirming."</p><p>Their conversation ceases once the tavern door opens and they are joined by a steady stream of their companions. Mahvir watched each of them with little interest until he caught sight of silky brown hair passing by the window.</p><p>Dorian looked tired. He was freshly showered and instead of wearing his usual attire of belts and buckles he was dressed in an intricate robe made of silk. With trousers that hung loosely around his hips in such a delicious way. The mage was undoubtedly exhausted and simply dressing for his own comfort but he still knew how to make an entrance.</p><p>At least for the Inquisitor, who felt as if his lover had stolen all of the air from his lungs.</p><p>Dorian comes sweeping by, on his way to the bar but he doesn't get far. Mahvir reaches out to snag the man by the hips and he drags him back to sit upon his lap.</p><p>A sigh follows, "Amatus, what are you doing?"</p><p>"I got you a drink already."</p><p>Dorian glances down to the single wine glass and eyes it in suspicion. "Is that?"</p><p>"Tevinter Red."</p><p>"Spoiling me are we?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>The mage lets out an adorable little Huff but he does give in nonetheless. What was he to do when a warrior had him gripped around the torso? He continues. "Do you plan on holding me hostage here all night? How are you to lose all of your coins when you're clinging to me like this?"</p><p>Mahvir offers a small shrug as he knew that public displays of affection weren't things that Dorian was particularly comfortable with. It was something he could never do or have when he lived in the imperium. "I'm not playing tonight." He says, nuzzling against the crook of the mage's throat, leaving soft kisses in his wake.</p><p>"I see." Dorian glances up to their friends around the table who were trying, albeit poorly, to seem like they weren't watching the pair. "Do excuse the Inquisitor's unseemly behavior. He gets like this when you leave him alone for too long."</p><p>"You shouldn't have left me alone for so long." Mahvir answers, voice muffled as his lips trailed lower to graze against the man's shoulder.</p><p>A deep chuckle resonates around the table. "I don't think I've ever seen you so put off, boss."</p><p>The elf glances upwards, his amber eyes glowering in a, dare I say it, territorial way. He is practically glaring daggers in the direction of the Iron Bull and Hissera. "Don't keep him away for so long the next time."</p><p>"I can see that. Seems to me like we left you a little worse for wear but I'm sure that Dorian can straighten you out just fine."</p><p>Dorian groans, disgusted, as he hated talk like this. His relationship with the Inquisitor wasn't one that he wanted to be paraded around. It left him feeling uncomfortable. As if he'd been caught in the act of doing something wrong. Some of his old trauma still lingered but he was trying his best to overcome it.</p><p>Which was why he was allowing the elf to be so openly affectionate. They were among friends only, so surely it was okay? Just this once.</p><p> </p><p>The tavern door swings open to announce the arrival of their last player who had been late in the first place. Cassandra walks in slowly and nobody seems to pay her any mind until they notice that she isn't alone.</p><p>Mahvir tenses from where he had been nipping gently against his lover's shoulder blade. Taking everyone else being distracted as the perfect opportunity to tease the mage.</p><p>Dorian had tensed as well, as he watches this stranger enter the tavern. Mahvir can see it in the way his jaw tenses and the way his gaze hardens. He wants to run, to retreat into the next open seat, and to act like he hadn't just been overly affectionate with the Inquisitor of all people.</p><p>The damage, however, was already done, and so Mahvir tightened his embrace. Not allowing the necromancer a chance to get up or to leave the tavern entirely.</p><p>"It was nice of you to finally join us, Cass," Mahvir says instead, breaking up the momentary silence of the room. "I see you brought a friend... Mihren, wasn't it?"</p><p>The new elf turns to regard the Inquisitor but his expression felt unreadable in the moment.</p><p>"Come and sit. Let's have this game begin."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Solas haunts Mahvir's dreams.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He gave up on reading once his gaze had surveyed the same paragraph for the fifth time. To make it through this next chapter was akin to a burden and his grey eyes had started to burn with exhaustion an hour previous.</p><p>Dorian reaches over for an unused quill on the nightstand, and places it as a marker between the pages. He closes the book and sets it aside, shuddering at a merciless chill that was creeping into the room, despite the fire that was blazing in the hearth.</p><p>"Amatus," he sighs, calling out feebly to the elf who was standing on the balcony. Only clothed in a pair of loose-fitting trousers. "Come to bed before you freeze to death out there."</p><p>Not being given a response the mage is left to curse under his breath. Tossing the weighted blanket from his lap and stepping onto the chilled stone floor. He sprints towards the couch to pick up a smaller throw and brings it around his shoulders as if it was a lavish cape. "Mahvir?" He tries again, "Was I too late? Are you already an icicle?"</p><p>He steps out onto the balcony and follows the elf's gaze upwards. The stars glittered in the sky, and he was immediately enraptured by some of the Constellations just above the farthest mountain peaks. He reaches out tentatively to wrap his arms and the blanket around the Inquisitor's lithe frame. His hands come to rest against his abdomen, and he traces his fingers against the scars he found there. "You're covered in goosebumps my love, what are you doing out here?"</p><p>Mahvir finally stirs, resituating his grip upon the balcony railing. "I was just thinking."</p><p>"A kiss for your thoughts, then?" He inquires, resting his chin against the elf's shoulder and pressing his lips against the crook of his neck.</p><p>"A dream I keep having," Mahvir offers, leaning back against Dorian's chest and the warmth that he was providing. "I'm walking in the forest back in the Free Marches, a place where my clan used to stay during the warmer seasons. Despite having walked it's paths since I was a boy, I always end up getting lost."</p><p>Dorian hugs him just a bit tighter. "Do you ever find your way out?"</p><p>"No," the other man sighs. "I get forced farther into the forest by a wolf."</p><p>"A wolf?"</p><p>"Like it's hunting me, and I'm unable to get away."</p><p>The mage hums thoughtfully and trails a line of soothing kisses against the shell of his lover's pointed ear.</p><p>Mahvir continues; "In Dalish religion, the wolf is a sign of Fen'harel. Seeing him in dreams is meant to be a bad omen."</p><p>"Perhaps you are just stressed? Ellana is only a day back on her feet and you've been at her bedside since we defeated Corypheus."</p><p>"I thought that at first but to have the same reoccurring dream must mean something. Or it could just be a spirit playing tricks on me while I sleep..." The anchor had been flaring more than usual, Cullen had woken him up in the middle of the night more than once while they staked out in the Infirmary.</p><p>"That's possible." Dorian relents but he didn't sound convinced. "We know that Mythal is alive, perhaps Fen'harel is as well?"</p><p>A chill creeps up the elf's spine and it's not from the cold. "If that were true, then I should be keeping my sword at my side. If The Dread Wolf catches your scent then it is only a matter of time before he finds you." Something that his reoccurring nightmare had been reflecting.</p><p>"Nonsense, I wouldn't let such a thing happen."</p><p>Mahvir laughs but it is empty of his usual mirth. "Fighting Gods for me now, are you Veh'nan?"</p><p>"Well, we defeated an evil Magister just a fortnight ago, how difficult could an ancient elf be?"</p><p>"I pray that we never have to find out but perhaps it would be worth it if I can get a night of undisturbed rest."</p><p>"The cold certainly won't help with that. You're aching, aren't you?"</p><p>A beat of silence follows before he's given a tentative "no" in response.</p><p>"You're a terrible liar," Dorian announces, not fooled for a moment as he unravels the other man from his arms and steps away. Taking the sanctity of the blanket with him. "Come, Inquisitor, I'll draw us a bath, and afterward I'll see what I can do about that restless mind of yours."</p><p>Mahvir turns away from the balcony at last and follows his lover back into their quarters. Closing the large glass doors behind him to seal off the frigid breeze. "I'm alright, Dorian, you don't have to stay up longer on my account."</p><p>"Not a chance Amatus. If the Dread Wolf has truly found his way to your side, he can be tomorrow's problem."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Descent DLC - A conversation in the deep roads.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Something troubling you, dearest?"</p>
<p>The voice was delicate and sultry as it always was. It lingered in the air just above him but Mahvir didn't have to look up to know who it belonged too. "Something doesn't feel right," he answers, "I've got a bad feeling."</p>
<p>"Your intuition has gotten us out of trouble before, perhaps we would do well to listen."</p>
<p>He doesn't answer his lover right away, instead, he remains where he is. Crouched amidst the many tunnels of the deep roads. His left palm was pressed firmly against the ground, anchor flaring, as he attempted to pick up on what the dwarves deemed **stone sense.** He wasn't able to hear the murmurs of a lost Titan but he did know that the Earthquakes were getting worse and more deadly by the day. There had to be a reason for that.</p>
<p>"Amatus?"</p>
<p>Mahvir stands, dusting his hands against the fabric of his pants. "I would agree with you Ma Vehnan, but the other highways are blocked by Darkspawn hordes or cave-ins and we need to get to the Thaig before the next quake."</p>
<p>Dorian gives a slow nod of his head. Readjusting his grip upon his staff, lighting the cavern around them once the anchor quenches it's Jade flame. "You don't have to tell me twice. Varric hasn't stopped complaining since we made it underground and Cole has been mumbling nonsense the entire way."</p>
<p>The elf frowns, not because he hadn't noticed the state of his companions, but because he hadn't noticed his partner's short patience until that moment. "It can be daunting down here," he says, "I miss the open sky and fresh air more and more every day."</p>
<p>"Such a wild and untamable creature, as you are."</p>
<p>Mahvir rolls his amber eyes at Dorian's quip. "All I meant to say is that you all aren't alone when it comes to our situation. I'm not a fan of the conditions either but-"</p>
<p>"But the Inquisition is needed." The Mage finishes for him. "Corypheus is two months dead, surely the world could have held together longer than that? We've barely gotten a rest."</p>
<p>"I know Ma Vehnan, but just you wait until we return to Skyhold, your complaints will turn to boredom."</p>
<p>Dorian's expression shifts ever so slightly and the way his lips turn at the corner to form a heartfelt smirk leaves the Elf's heart hammering in his chest. "Boredom you say? Now how can that be when I have you to keep me company?"</p>
<p>It was a good question. As far as Mahvir was concerned he'd became an amazing companion to have in those private moments. Doting, devouring, and undeterred. The metaphorical sword that was currently hanging over both of their heads made him determined not to waste any of their time together.</p>
<p>Dorian would be returning to Tevinter soon.</p>
<p>"Surely you've tired of my company by now, Lord Pavus?" Mahvir takes a small step towards his mage in an inviting way.</p>
<p>Dorian bites, the light from his staff dimming just slightly. "To tire of you, Inquisitor would be to tire of life itself."</p>
<p>"Bold words, I'll have to hold you to them." There was just a hairsbreadth of space between them now.</p>
<p>"Please do."</p>
<p>He could feel Dorian's breath ghosting across his lips and his previous worries were forgotten. If only for a moment.</p>
<p>Their noses brush.<br/>Their lips touch.<br/>The air is stolen so deliciously from his lungs.</p>
<p>A rumble cracks through the air.<br/>Stones tumble free from the rocky ceiling above them and the ground begins to shake.</p>
<p>Mahvir presses his feet firmly against the trembling ground. He reaches out to grab the other man by a buckle on his robe, and crushes him against his chest. The elf rests his chin against Dorian's head and holds fast. Waiting for the quake to pass.</p>
<p>After it does, they wait for a beat, caught in this awkward embrace, and still unwilling to let go.</p>
<p>Dorian pushes against his stomach and moves away from his arms. Standing straighter and groaning inwardly at his usually perfectly groomed hair which was now a mess.</p>
<p>"Ir abelas," Mahvir offers him. "I wasn't thinking." It was an impulsive maneuver. An instinct that was now ingrained within him like any other; this man is my partner and I will protect him with my life."</p>
<p>That of course meant taking the brunt force of a few cascading rocks.</p>
<p>"I could have shielded us, had you left me be." Dorian scolds, leaning forward to brush a healing aura against a gash at the elf's hairline.</p>
<p>"Again, I'm sorry."</p>
<p>"I hate to see you hurt, you know."</p>
<p>"I know."</p>
<p>Dorian's touch falters, and he leans forward to place a kiss against the skin where the wound had just been. "We should get back to the others."</p>
<p>Mahvir sighs and it is a tired sound. "Back to being heroes, then."</p>
<p>"Back to being the Inquisition."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Trespasser- Mahvir wakes up after surgery.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His eyes took their time opening, and he was greeted by the ornate paintings that can only be found on the ceilings within Orleasian buildings. He swallowed, grimaced at how raw his throat felt, and then tried to recall his last memory.</p><p>He had been in the crossroads, crippled to his knees as the anchor became unbearable. The magic was ripping through him and then Solas had crouched down to take his hand. The Mage had allowed it to dissolve, bone, blood, and skin, gone.</p><p>The pain became blinding as the Dread Wolf offered him a sad smile and departed through the towering Eluvian. Mahvir had tried to clamor to his feet but as soon as he was standing his legs buckled and he hit the ground hard. Unable to do anything more than struggle to breathe, he had only stayed awake long enough to watch in awe as Hissera came rushing from the large mirror and to his aid.</p><p>The Inquisitor blinks and turns his amber eyes downwards. He acknowledges for the first time the ache that had seeped into his entire being.</p><p>What was left of his arm had been severed past his elbow. He had lost too much in just a few years, he realizes. He had lost his clan, and now his Inquisition. In the past few days, it had accumulated into something grievous. He had always been a religious man, turning to his faith when he felt lost. It had been like a punch to the face learning that those he prayed too hadn't been Gods at all! They were tyrants who kept their people as slaves.</p><p>With his still remaining hand, he reaches up to trace the sprawling branches of his Vallaslin. The pride he had felt when receiving it, twenty years ago now, was replaced with a feeling of remorse. Slave markings were they? How blind had the Dalish truly been?</p><p>Mahvir felt as if his very will had been taken with him. He had no strength of emotional or physical kind to offer. His movement on his cot caught the attention of others however and a small group of healers began to crowd around him. "Inquisitor you're awake! That's a good sign!"</p><p>The healer who spoke reached out to place her hand against his forehead. She seemed to frown at how it burned against her touch.</p><p>"We should inform Lord Pavus," another was saying. "Before he attempts barging in here again."</p><p>"Where is he?" Mahvir's voice was cracked and it sounded so little like his own, even to his own ears.</p><p>"You're in the medical wing, your Worship." The first healer explains to him carefully. "Lord Pavus is being kept in the next room over-"</p><p>The words register in his mind slowly but it doesn't prevent the alarm from seizing him. "Is he okay?" He croaks out already struggling to sit up.</p><p>"He was unconscious when your party arrived back to the palace. It was just a touch of shock and exhaustion, he's used to much Mana these past few days."</p><p>"I want to see him."</p><p>"I don't think that's wise-"</p><p><em>"I don't care what you think.</em>" The harshness in his tone seemed to shock his caretakers, who watched helplessly for a moment as he sits up and throws his legs over the side of the cot.</p><p>It would prove to be a mistake as standing up causes his every muscle to scream in protest. He gasps in alarm as his vision blurs into something indistinguishable. Faintly he acknowledges a touch on his side. Someone holding him up, and he takes what feels like hours regaining just a bit of conscious thought. "His room, now." It's clear that the healers want to protest, but they end up doing no such thing as they lead him into the hall and to the next doorway.</p><p>Dorian was arguing with his own healer. A younger man who couldn't have been more than twenty, who was practically trembling under the future Magister's scrutiny. "Look I'm awake, I've let you prod at me, **I've rested."**</p><p>"You're still shaking with exhaustion, my Lord..." The young man protest feebly.</p><p>"You're mistaking my health for my barely kept rage, young man."</p><p>There's a pause, as the young healer glances towards the door when the others enter. His eyes widening in surprise as his companions share the elf's weight between them.</p><p>"You're scaring the poor boy, Dorian."</p><p>The Necromancer turns around as quick as lightning. His grey eyes seeking out the voice of his husband. "He should be scared," he retorts, raising from his own cot to race towards the elf. "For keeping me away from you."</p><p>Mahvir is only vaguely aware of his healers letting him go and Dorian's touch replacing their own. He's pulled into an embrace and he sinks into the warmth of it. Curling in on himself as he rests against Dorian's chest. "They're just doing their jobs, Ma Vehnan."</p><p>"Stop defending them! I didn't know if you were... I didn't know if you were going to make it."</p><p>"And leave you here to criticize the healers alone? Perish the thought."</p><p>"Kaffas, this isn't a time for jokes, Amatus."</p><p>"Ir Abelas ma Vehnan, it's been a long day."</p><p>Dorian sighs, and hugs the elf just a bit tighter. Attempting to ignore the shaking of his hands from countless hours of continuous spellcasting. "I know and it will only be longer still if we keep standing here."</p><p>"Are we still standing?" Mahvir inquires quietly, become less and less aware of his surroundings. His vision was blurring again and he struggled to concentrate on his lover's voice.</p><p>Dorian tenses against him before turning the elf towards the lone bed in the room. "You can all leave." He tells the healers, who remain rooted in their places. "I won't be doing anything drastic and I'll call for you if his state worsens."</p><p>After everything, didn't they deserve some time alone?</p><p>The healers share another round of glances before they begin to file out of the room. The last one waits to shut the door until Mahvir has been settled down on the cot.</p><p>It's a tight fit for them both, but Dorian is hellbent on curling up beside his lover and simply holding him in his arms. His touch is delicate against Mahvir's back and the elf snuggles in close as a response.</p><p>For a time they fall into silence. Basking in each other's company as they fight to regain something that resembled strength. They'd earned the rest.</p><p>"Dorian?" Mahvir prompts after a time of comfortable silence. His breathing is shallow and his skin still burns relentlessly.</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"It was Solas."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"It's been Solas this whole time."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>Another silence follows until Mahvir speaks again, his voice thick with remorse. "I don't know what to do." He admits hopelessly. "The world needs the Inquisition but they won't realize it... Not now. Not when their newest threat came from our ranks."</p><p>Dorian frowns and glances down to see his Husband staring back up at him. He looked so much older in those moments, weaker, and unable to continue on. "Shhh," he soothes. "We can worry about this once you've rested."</p><p>"Look at me, Dorian. I can't fight like this." He was going to need rehabilitation. To work some life into himself again. To relearn how to wield a weapon, and how to fight with only one limb for use. "I can't **lead** like this."</p><p>"Yes you can, you'll just need time."</p><p>"We don't have time. They need something better."</p><p>"Something better than you Amatus? I don't think that's possible." Dorian attempts flattery, pressing a small kiss into the elf's chestnut hair. He lingers there, taking in the scent of wood, magic, blood, and the faintest traces of rosemary and sage.</p><p>"I will only hold them back now." Mahvir murmurs, as if he was slowly coming to terms with the cards he's been dealt. "I have to let them go."</p><p>Dorian sighs as understanding finally registers. "What will be your final decree as Inquisitor?" He finds himself asking, despite knowing how hard it will be for the other man to admit.</p><p>"The Templars and Seekers are both in the midst of Reformation. Leliana needs something to keep her strong and in power. She's controversial... I hope that giving her the Inquisition will give her that."</p><p>"She'll be indebted to you."</p><p>"I'm not doing it for her debt."</p><p>"Certainly not, you are the most selfless person I know."</p><p>Mahvir stirs at this. Burying his face against Dorian's shoulder.</p><p>He struggles to not give into his regret. Of everything he did as Inquisitor and of everything he wasn't able to do. Skyhold had become his home after losing his Clan and the Inquisition had become his life's purpose. Now that he was going to walk away so that it could continue to prosper? He felt more than lost. "I'm not ready to say goodbye."</p><p>"It will be the hardest part." Dorian agrees, delicately brushing his finger's through Mahvir's hair now. "But you're the only one who can make this decision."</p><p>Mahvir nods and finally relaxes. Not allowing his mind to wander further. "I hope it's the right one." He offers before finally slipping off into the longest sleep of his life</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Post Inquisition. </p>
<p>Nellie- the sole survivor of the Clan Lavellan Massacre- has a heart to heart with her uncle Dorian about wanting to study magic outside of Tevinter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The conversation at the dinner table was lively, as it always was when Mahvir Lavellan was home. He had a sort of deposition that could easily brighten a room. His smile was contagious as was the way he cared deeply about things, and other people.</p>
<p>He was a sensitive man, delicate at heart.</p>
<p>Nellie Lavellan, his niece, was reflecting on this now as he babbled on with his adopted Son Alecander. Something about the philosophy of Dragon taming.</p>
<p>She must have looked troubled as her Uncle-in-Law caught her gaze from across the table. There was a knowing look in his grey eyes, as sharp as a tack, that one.</p>
<p>Nellie's appetite was soiled and she delicately pushed her plate away, instead of picking up her wine glass that was filled to the brim with a sparkling apple cider. She sipped upon it in contemplation, and let the taste settle on her tongue. It helped distract her from her anxieties, even if it was only for a moment.</p>
<p>"Finished?" Her uncle pipes up, turning his eyes that looked just like her own, </p>
<p>upon her.</p>
<p>"Yes, thank you." She answers quickly. Relieved to have an excuse to get him out of the room.</p>
<p>Just as he always does, he stands to gather up as many dishes as he can within his arms. Unwilling to inconvenience the Pavus' Estate's staff at such a late hour.</p>
<p>She feels even better when Dorian inclines his head towards the nine-year-old in the room. "Alec, why don't you got help your Father? He's getting clumsy in his old age."</p>
<p>"Sure thing Dade." Alec slips from his seat, brown hair long and unruly. He practically races to Mahvir's side, taking plates and Silverware from his arms.</p>
<p>"You wound me, Ma Vehnan." The warrior retaliates with a sigh of mock hurt.</p>
<p>"You still love me all the same, Amatus."</p>
<p>"Without a doubt." Then the two elves were departing, leaving the mages alone within the exquisite dining hall.</p>
<p>Dorian fixes her with a contemplative stare.<br/>"Dearest Nellie, would you care to tell me what's troubling you?"</p>
<p>The young elf, a few days shy of sixteen, bites her bottom lip hesitantly.</p>
<p>"While your uncle is away, preferably. I've got the feeling that you didn't want him to know."</p>
<p>Nellie lets out a long breath and attempts to settle her nerves. "You know I love you, and Alec. I love living with the both of you, you're my family..."</p>
<p>"But?"</p>
<p>"But Tevinter is becoming more like a cage than a home. I can't even go to the market without you and my tutors have to come here. I'm almost sixteen and my only social life is with the teenagers who work under you or Mistress Telani."</p>
<p>Dorian folds his hands together and places them against the table. "I can understand how that would be upsetting to you, my darling, How can I help?"</p>
<p>"I..." She hesitates once more. Dorian only offers her an encouraging smile, so she continues. "I want to go study in Orlais. In one of the college circles... You and Uncle are friends with Madame Vivienne and it would allow me to see the world a little. To experience something different, rather than the walls of this estate or the hedges in the garden."</p>
<p>For the faintest moment, the Magister before her frowns. The expression is gone within the blink of an eye, however, and then he's smiling again. "I think that is a fair request. We can't keep sheltering you forever and it would be a pursuit towards your education."</p>
<p>"You're handling this better than I thought you would."</p>
<p>"I was your age once and I understand that Tevinter is no place for an Elf. Especially not one who is destined for greatness, like I know you are."</p>
<p>"You're speaking very highly of me."</p>
<p>Dorian chuckles at this. "Just as age is making your uncle lack motor skills, it is making me sickeningly sentimental."</p>
<p>It is Nellie's turn to smile and it is warm, genuine. "Sentimentality suites you."</p>
<p>"Perish the thought! But in all sincerity, one day I hope that Tevinter can be your home. It is my motivation and it is the goal I work towards every day. Until then, I see no problem with you finishing your schooling abroad."</p>
<p>"Thank you! But what about..."</p>
<p>"Oh, he'll throw a fit of course. It is only because he worries about you, he won't want you in Orlais alone, but I will speak with him."</p>
<p>The young Age, soon to be circle member, relaxes in her seat. It is the easiest and happiest that she had felt in weeks.</p>
<p>Finally, her life could begin in earnest.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Post Inquisition, <br/>Mahvir and Dorian have a talk in the Gardens.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Basking like a cat within the summer Sun, Mahvir was nestled within the Grand Cathedral's gardens. Orlais was beautiful this time of year and he was thoroughly enjoying the plant life around him. The flowers were a flourish, from the beginning blooms of rose bushes to the careful plotting of Crystal Grace.</p>
<p>The sweet aroma was engulfing his senses and he was practically purring. An elf was most in his element when he was in nature, even if it was in the confines of towering concrete walls on all sides. He was visiting the Sunburst throne, the entire Inner Circle was in fact. It was one of those very rare summits where Divine Victoria allowed all of her old friends to gather. The topic of this meeting was of course Fen'Harel. It always was these days.</p>
<p>Currently, they were on a recess of sorts. Thus, the retired Inquisitor found a refuge where he knew it best.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His previously closed eyes open when he hears the rumble of clumsy feet marching towards him.</p>
<p>He is not surprised to see his niece and nephew, Ellana's twins, nor was he surprised to see his own son leading them into the tulips. A warning rumbled in the back of his throat. The warmth in the air has made him sluggish, lazy.</p>
<p>Another voice, delicate, dangerously intoxicant in its familiarity, beat him to it.</p>
<p>"Stay clear of the flowers, lest you want to be replanting them!" Dorian's tone while stern, was thick with amusement.</p>
<p>Mahvir turns to greet him with a welcoming smile. "Dorian Pavus braving the outside world? The Cathedral must be on fire."</p>
<p>The Mage lets out a huff before sinking down to sit on the bench beside him. "The children wanted to come to play and I offered to watch them." His grey eyes followed after the troop of three as they changed course towards the pond a few yards away. "I don't get to see the twins enough. They really are a spitting image of their parents."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mahvir hums in agreement as he scoots closer, resting his head against Dorian's shoulder. "Does it bother you? That Alec doesn't look like us?"</p>
<p>A short laugh tumbles from the Magister as his gaze lingers on the young elf in question. The boy who had the most unruly brunette locks and the most vibrant green eyes that he'd ever seen. "It only bothers me that I can not claim him in name, I am happy that he is a Lavellan, but I wish he could be a Pavus as well."</p>
<p>Mahvir seeks out his husband's hand. Offers it a reassuring squeeze. "He **is** a Pavus, and the people who matter are the ones that know it."</p>
<p>"He is my son." Dorian murmurs forcefully, rather it was to convince himself or the world around them, Mahvir wasn't sure.</p>
<p>"He is, Ma Lath, and he knows it."</p>
<p>Dorian dismisses the conversation with a wave of his free hand. "I suppose you're right, although he is just like **you** in every other way. The way he gives those puppy eyes when he wants something? It's insufferable."</p>
<p>It is Mahvir's turn to laugh and he does so joyously. "It is only insufferable because you fall for it! And Nellie, Mythal's Mercy, she is just like you. That clever tongue of hers will get her in trouble one day."</p>
<p>"Oh but that's the best kind of trouble to be in."</p>
<p>"You would know."</p>
<p>They lapse into silence. Comfortable. Peaceful.</p>
<p>The moment itself is almost tranquil.</p>
<p>It is broken by a chorus of disgruntled shouting in the distance. Muffled by towering hedges and reeds. Dorian sighs and pushes himself to his feet. "I suppose that is my cue, I would ask you to come with me but you seemed to be enjoying your nap."</p>
<p>"It's been a while since I've had one." He admits sheepishly.</p>
<p>Dorian moves to step away but he is caught by arms slinking around his waist. One made of flesh and the other made of metal.</p>
<p>Mahvir pulls him back in and the embrace is nearly bone-crushing. The elf presses his face against the mage's abdomen, nuzzling against the soft fabric of his robes. He waits as if he was holding the other man hostage until he feels careful hands brush through his chestnut hair. Gliding over his sensitive pointed ears. "I love you, Dorian Pavus." He murmurs quietly as if it was some secret between them.</p>
<p>Dorian takes a step away, releasing himself from the elf's hold, before bending down to take a the elf's face between his hands. Cradling it, and caressing the length of his jawbone with the pads of his thumb. They stay this way for a moment more. Dorian seems to be staring at him intently. From the faint strays of silver in his chestnut hair to the tiredness in his amber eyes, and the wrinkles (some from worry, but more from laughter) that creased along his gentle expression.</p>
<p>Finally, the Magister leans down to leave the most delicate of kisses upon an elf's lips. "Rest well, my beloved."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>SPOILERS FOR TEVINTER NIGHTS.</p>
<p>A conversation between Mahvir and Dorian after the events of "Luck in the Gardens."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun had set over the bustling city of Minrathous hours ago. The capital was bathed by the pale light of a full moon and the magic that twinkled within the trees of the garden. The leaves themselves glimmered as if stars had fallen from the sky and nestled within the wildlife.</p>
<p>Mahvir Lavellan was watching these faint lights from high above. The old warrior stood upon his bedroom's balcony, staring out into the night with a sense of dread churning in the pit of his stomach.</p>
<p>His husband had left hours ago, with his friend Maevaris Telani, and a Lord of Fortune, (a treasure Hunter he had hired) who had taken to calling themselves Hollix for this particular mission.</p>
<p>They were on a hunt to kill a monster that had been terrorizing the lesser citizens of the city. So far nine bodies had already been found, all without their heads. From what Mahvir understood, the creature could have been an experiment gone wrong or an abomination. It was anyone's guess but it was the uncertainty that was weighing on him. He knew that Dorian could handle himself in a fight. He had seen the Magister fell his enemies with little more than a wave of his staff and a confident smile. However, those victories had been against known enemies. The Venatori, Red Templars, even Corypheus himself had felt the sting of necromancy during that final battle.</p>
<p>All of that was behind them now.<br/>The only battles that Dorian had seen of late had been those of the Senate Floor, and from the occasional assassin that was sent his way.</p>
<p>Even if he wouldn't admit it, Mahvir knew that his lover was out of practice. This information had nagged him for hours, even after he had put their children to sleep and helped the house staff clean up the mess that their dinner had left behind.</p>
<p>The elf leans against the balcony's railing with dropping ears. His hand, the one still made of flesh, pressed against the pendant that was wrapped around his neck by a thick cord.<br/>The crystal it held burned beneath his palm but he did not speak into his most treasured gift; he merely waited with bated breath for something to stir within the night.</p>
<p>His crippling anxiety comes to a head when the warm Tevinter air is disturbed by a vacuum of magical power. Somewhere in the distance, a lightning spell was conjured into being, and it was enough to light up the sky across half of Minrathous.</p>
<p>A clap of thunder following, and with the sound came the skip of a heartbeat, from a man who had never feared more for someone in his life.</p>
<p>⚔️⚔️⚔️</p>
<p>The front door of the Pavus Estate did not open again until an hour later. The creak of the old wood on its hinges was enough to alert the Dalish Elf, who rushed down the house's main staircase two steps at a time.</p>
<p>The stairs led him down into the main parlor, where a servant was closing the door behind a disgruntled looking Magister.</p>
<p>The chandelier above them became ablaze due to Dorian's presence, and it basked the room of marble, trimmed with gold, in a welcoming glow.</p>
<p>They met each other halfway. Their kiss was long and practiced, something that had been perfected over years of its familiarity.</p>
<p>"Mythal's mercy Ma Vehnan, I was so worried." The elf huffs outwards. His hands are trembling, as they cup his husband's face between their palms. Even the mechanical one seemed to shake due to the Warrior's rattled nerves.</p>
<p>Dorian looked frazzled, perhaps even a bit breathless, but he was otherwise no worse for wear. There was a scorch mark upon his velveteen robes, a backlash from such a large lightning spell. His hair, longer now and with the faintest specks of stress-induced grey, had fallen to the side in a messy way. It was his eyes, however, that had enraptured the elf so.<br/>Their grey hues were like a gleaming silver in this light, and they were aflame with an old excitement that the mage had seemingly forgotten.</p>
<p>"Are you alright?" Mahvir ventures, tracing the edges of Dorian's carefully trimmed beard with the pads of his thumbs. **No, he certainly wasn't jealous.**</p>
<p>"That was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen!" Dorian laments with an uneasy laugh before his own hands are finding purchase on the elf's hips. Pulling him closer, and their next kiss is sloppy, earnest, perhaps even eager. When they part it is with the mage bouncing on the balls of his feet. "And did you see that lightning?!"</p>
<p>"I think half of Minrathous saw it, my love."</p>
<p>"It was glorious Amatus, absolutely glorious!"</p>
<p>Mahvir was finding it difficult to share in his husband's excitement but he offered a timid smile nonetheless. "I'm glad that you enjoyed yourself, at least." It was a lame attempt at offering his support and it didn't get him far.</p>
<p>"Come now Mahvir, you go trampling all over Thedas with Ellana and your merry band. You see danger all the time and do I ever complain?"</p>
<p>"Yes," the elf sighs in exasperation as he drops his hands, he instead wraps his arms comfortably around Dorian's shoulders. "You complain a lot."</p>
<p>"I only complain because I've good reason! What if you lose another limb or worse an eye! You do have a very fetching pair you know, I don't think I could bear not being able to look into them."</p>
<p>"Are you flattering me, Pavus?"</p>
<p>"Only because I love you, Lavellan."</p>
<p>There's a pause. A break in the tension as they simply stare at one another.</p>
<p>Eyes of an autumn sun, deep amber, and gold become lost in the gaze of a glinting silver that could only belong to the most breathtakingly crafted blade; and vice versa.</p>
<p>"I was very scared." Mahvir finally reiterates in a fragile voice. "I wish you'd let me go with you."</p>
<p>"Now," Dorian soothes in a way that no other person could match, raising one of his hands to caress the elf's face with a gentle stroke of his knuckles. "We made the decision that we will not risk both of our son's parents at once, not if we could help it."</p>
<p>"I know, but-"</p>
<p>"And Nellie would have been very cross with me had I put you in needless danger."</p>
<p>"But she would have-"</p>
<p>"And this burden was mine to bare, Amatus. It was a duty I had to my country. You've done your time and then some. Your only obligation when you are home is to be the amazing husband and father that I know you to be."</p>
<p>Mahvir curled his fingers into the back of Dorian's tunic, suddenly aware that he was still shaking; beyond rattled by an indescribable fear. He leans forward on his feet and nestles his face against the crook of the Mage's neck. "Thank you for coming home."</p>
<p>"For you Amatus," Dorian speaks quietly into the elf's ear. "I will always find my way home."</p>
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